


She is a Riddle, a Mystery, an Enigma.

by writingramblr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Porn, Changing Tenses, F/M, Femme Fatale, Film Noir, Inspired by Photography, Loss of Virginity, One Night Stands, Professor of Science, Sexual Content, Tropes, Vogue Photoshoot, so many, this probably hits some kinks i didn't know i had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A washed up Professor sees a stunning Siren across the room, and as impossible as it seems, she makes him an offer he can't refuse.</p><p>But they've both got secrets that will keep them apart, even as they join together.</p><p> </p><p>[title from a quote about Russia itself by Winston Churchill]</p>
            </blockquote>





	She is a Riddle, a Mystery, an Enigma.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Mario Testino for Vogue Magazine's fault.  
> that damn photoshoot.  
> http://thehulk.tumblr.com/post/70023935582
> 
> anyway enjoy some Brutasha Noir Smut in honor of the fact Avengers 2 is nearly HERE.  
> The tensing is weird so I'm sorry for that, and the smut itself is horrible, cause I'm way out of practice. ugh.

 

 

She blew into his life like the first breath one gives to a cup of hot chocolate, lest it scald one’s lips.

That night when he saw her walk past his perch at the hotel bar he swore she looked like an angel. Gold curls fell gently onto her shoulders, just grazing the true golden shimmering mesh necklace that kissed her collarbones and drew the eye to her peach colored silk dress.

It clung to every curve and yet with the high neckline still managed to be the complete essence of elegance.

Matching gloves covered her hands and up to her elbows, so that nearly all of her was covered in the lovely silk. As if she was trying to hide herself, or simply stay warm.

The click of her heels was a soft sound which made him look up from his whiskey that he’d been contemplating drowning in.

But her scarlet lips smiled and bewitched him.

He had to meet her.

What he didn’t plan on was just how many other men had the same idea.

Soon, before he even had time to down the rest of his drink, she was surrounded by suits and cigarettes, with flickering flames inches from her face, offered to light whichever smoke she chose.

He took a deep breath and decided to remain seated.

Perhaps she would come to him if he was patient.

***

The amount of men crowded around her was dizzying.

Worse yet was the stifling smell of the combined colognes.

She rolled her eyes and fought the urge to scream at them all.

After accepting one cigarette, she smiled at the next man who held out a lighter.

“You’re too kind.”

Though she kept her attention on the men in question, her focus was drawn by another figure altogether.

Alone at the bar, nursing what appeared to be watered down whiskey or rum, with a curious outfit including a white bowtie and grey streaked hair.

He didn’t look as old as his hair made him seem.

The mere fact that he wasn’t attempting to win her attention made her want to get his.

The absence of a ring on his left hand settled it for her.

“Thank you boys for your time, but I find myself growing thirsty. Please excuse me.”

A fact-of-the-matter tone meant she didn’t wish to be followed, which the gaggle of men actually respected, parting like the red sea for her as she moved towards the brown countered bar.

“Vodka soda please.”

The bartender nodded at her and turned away to begin fixing her drink, leaving her free to pretend not to try and catch the handsome stranger’s eye.

She noticed his grip on his glass tighten, and she sighed quietly.

“I see you escaped without a single business card.”

She took a long pull of her cigarette before dignifying the statement with a reply.

“I’m pretty clever like that.”

A stream of smoke caressed every word on the way out of her mouth before she turned her eyes to the man who’d spoken so cuttingly.

***

He could have bitten his tongue.

Why did he have to go and say that?

Now she knew he’d been watching her like a fool.

He’d been patient and she had come over, but he’d already ruined it.

‘Good going Bruce. Way to fuck it up.’

He wrenched his gaze away from her face, which was even more perfect up close, well, closer, porcelain skin with a slight gleam that had to have been powdered on.

No one shown like that unless they really were from the heavens above, and he had never heard of an angel who smoked.

Not to mention how indecent she made the act look.

Though her red lips pouted around the white papered burning stick, no lipstick smeared on the cigarette itself.

“How much have you had? Or do you pretend you know everything about a lady when you’re sober?”

The smile she graced him with was incredible.

Sympathetic enough to be kind, but not so much as to be condescending.

Her green eyes shimmered with a kind of teasing delight, and he wondered what she was thinking in that moment.

Sculpted brows framed her face perfectly, and he found himself trying to picture what she’d look like in the morning, freshly awakened and naked with that gorgeous silk dress wrinkling on the floor.

He blinked, and shook himself.

She had asked a question, and he’d rudely ignored it in favor of imagining her in his bed.

“Would you like another? Or is that not a good way to win you over?”

Bruce gulped.

When had she gotten so close?

She was perched elegantly in the seat right next to him, and he frowned,

“I think I’ve already taken up enough of your time Miss…”

***

She hadn’t been called that in a while.

Clearly he didn’t have a clue who she was.

Recently widowed, current heiress and owner of the oil fueled - and other more tasteless thing - empire of Boris Romanoff.

Not a trace of Russian in her voice, but plenty in her family tree.

She smiled at him again, and fought the urge to show some teeth.

“Just Ms. Formerly Mrs. But you can call me Natasha.”

She held out her hand, the one free of the nearly burnt out cigarette, and the man stared at it for a moment before accepting it, and gently squeezing her fingers in his hand.

“Bruce Banner, washed out science professor and failed inventor.”

She stared at his brown eyes, holding his gaze just long enough to make him uncomfortable.

She shook her head.

“I don’t believe that. Maybe you just haven’t had the right funding.”

Bruce looked down at his glass, and gave a wry chuckle.

“That’s funny.”

“What’s that?”

“You accuse me of assuming things about you when you manage to hit the nail right on the head with me. Am I really that easy to read?”

The cigarette was finally finished, and she dropped it into his glass. He was done with it anyway. Staring at it wouldn’t make it magically refill.

Her hand dropped to touch his arm and she smiled to herself as she saw him inhale rapidly at the contact.

“Let’s just say I’m usually very intuitive.”

‘That’s what happens when you’re raised by gypsies.’ She left unsaid.

Her vodka soda finally arrived and she winked at the bartender, an elderly man with more wrinkles than she had years.

“Thanks. He’ll take another.”

She didn’t bother trying to guess what he was drinking.

But the way his dark grey eyebrows met in confusion was quite endearing.

“Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“I have a tab here. I know I don’t look the part of the poor scientist, but believe me, I can buy my own drinks.”

Natasha patted his arm and felt how threadbare the jacket for his tux was, although impressively pressed.

 

“Have you got a business card?”

***

Bruce felt his mouth go dry.

Was this how women flirted?

Was this siren with a name that sounded vaguely threatening and dangerous flirting with _him_?

On the off chance she wasn’t, he managed to clear his throat and not sound completely ridiculous.

“No I’m afraid I left them at the school.”

He could still feel her hand on his arm, and her touch seemed to burn through the fabric right to his skin making him feel rather flushed.

Swallowing in vain to attempt to moisten his throat, he watched as she took a sip of her drink, and the urge to flee slowly lessened.

“Good thing I have one for you then. A card that is. Attached to a key. It’s in here.”

She held up her matching golden clutch, which had been resting in her lap and his eyes zeroed in on the latch that had to open it.

He inhaled swiftly and then his gaze returned to her own laughing one. Her eyes were laughing at his expense.

“What are you saying?”

She smirked at him, and shrugged.

“I should think a man of science could figure it out. Key’s tend to open doors. Doors lead to rooms.”

She trailed off, and her lips parted, as her tongue swept across her bottom lip, moistening it just enough, before she took another sip of her drink leaving him to stew in silence.

If he was hearing things right, and hadn’t simply gone mad from the drink, she was offering her room key.

He still hadn’t taken the clutch to open it and see what he would find.

He was almost afraid to do it, as if she was daring him.

***

Bruce Banner, professor and failed inventor wasn’t like the average man she tried to seduce.

He was almost difficult.

His reluctance to accept what she was offering was almost frustrating.

If she could have had anyone else, she would have, but she’d decided on him early on.

She suddenly itched under the silk of her dress.

Her skin wanted to breathe, and to feel his body against her own.

She needed to know what he looked like beneath his suit.

It’d been so long since she’d had a beau to warm her bed, she was drowning in want.

The vodka was only just beginning to influence her mind, and if she drank too much more, she’d be draping herself over his body whether he wanted it or not.

But she wanted him to _want_ her right back.

She sensed he probably did.

He was just shy.

Impatience won over, and she popped open the clutch, revealing the silver key and the cream colored card that hung from the chain.

“Well?”

His eyes widened,

“It’s a key.”

“And a card.”

Her skin was buzzing with electricity, and if he didn’t reach out and take it, she was going to have to leave.

Before she did something foolish like throw herself at him.

To her immense delight, he spoke,

“All right.”

She blinked.

“What was that?”

“Let’s go.”

Her stomach seemed to fill with excited butterflies, and she smiled lazily,

“Well well, the professor finally decided.”

He took her hand from his arm, and laced their fingers together, squeezing gently.

  
“I’m not fool enough to refuse a lady’s wishes.”

***

Whatever Bruce had done to win God’s favor, he wished he could do it over and over again.

The feel of her hand in his, gloved though it was, sent shivers up and down his spine.

He’d had a date to prom, and it had ended with a horribly fumbled kiss and embrace. Since then, he’d thrown himself into studies and work and teaching and the resulting blur had been a severe lack of contact with the opposite sex.

Women mostly intimidated him to mumbling.

Natasha had been very right.

Had he not already consumed most of his drink, he never would have had the courage to speak to her, much less take her invitation to accompany her upstairs.

The ding of the elevator brought him out of the haze of his thoughts, and he realized with a start where he was.

The penthouse.

A suite that was furnished with the most beautiful objects and meant to house near royalty.

Who had he followed home?

His gaze focused on her, the golden haired goddess who had beckoned him, and he watched her shed the silk cape and toss her gloves aside.

“Would you like anything? There’s a fully stocked bar over here.”

He blinked, and stared as she threw several ice cubes into a glass before pouring something two shades darker than her dress on top of it.

Rosé wine over ice.

How peculiar.

“Thank you but I think I’m fine.”

Her laugh sounded like bubbles tasted.

“Are you? You look nervous. Like you’ve walked into a lion’s den. I promise there’s no one else up here.”

Bruce swallowed,

“That’s not why I’m nervous.”

“Oh?”

Seeing just a tantalizing hint of bare skin, bare shoulders and arms and delicate wrists was enough to drive any man mad. But when it was her, it was a welcoming madness.

“I’m wondering if it’s all a horrible mistake.”

Natasha’s eyebrow rises at his words, and he rushes to clarify,

“I mean perhaps you picked me by accident.”

She shook her head,

“Not a chance.”

Her lips shimmer with the wetness of the wine, and he suddenly can’t look anywhere else.

“See anything you like?”

“Yes.”

He hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

***

Fish out of water.

That’s how Bruce looks in her room.

He’s dressed with fancy clothing but he looks very apprehensive.

The fineries of the hotel are simply trifles to Natasha, who’s been surrounded by luxury most of her adult life.

But she aches to make him feel more comfortable.

So she sheds some of her armor.

His attention is snagged.

She tells him she wants a kiss, without a word.

Miraculously, he understands and obeys.

It takes him a moment.

But then he’s crossed the room, and plucked the glass from her hands, only slightly surprising her.

His hands are rough on her bare skin, and she loves it.

Calloused fingers tighten on her arm, while his other hand cups her face like it’s made of glass.

His five o’clock shadow rasps against her skin when their lips meet at last.

She keeps hers together until she feels his tongue probing and asking for entrance. Then she swallows his breathe and relishes his gasp for air.

He’s pulled her close and she’s unconsciously melted into his arms, when he suddenly trips over the carpet and brings them crashing down to the floor.

Luckily he’s caged her in his embrace, and the wind is knocked from his lungs.

She smiles and moves back to let him breathe,

“Smooth.”

He looks apologetic, but she doesn’t mind. The new positioning is very conducive to her plans.

She’s perched atop him, the silk of her dress riding up her thighs, and her legs have trapped his own.

She fists the carpet in her hands, and leans down to capture his lips once more. Firmly pressing into him, she can feel his heartbeat accelerating, and if she’s not mistaken, there’s a hard bulge beneath her hips that he’s trying to hide by shrinking away.

But he has nowhere to go.

“’M sorry.”  
He mumbles against her mouth, and she shakes her head.

“Don’t be. It’s flattering to know a girl’s efforts are appreciated.”

He might be about to protest her term for herself, but she doesn’t care. She bites his lip hard enough to make him gasp and she’s got his attention completely once more.

***

He was prepared to be embarrassed at how easily he lost his footing, but Natasha has turned the fall into something else entirely.

She writhed around on top of him like a cat trying to get comfortable while he was anything but.

Well he wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but he was very quickly becoming aroused beyond control.

She only seemed to encourage it with her words.

Her kissing style was also remotely feral.

She bit him.

He bucked up against her, feeling her respond to his movements with a twist of her hips.

His hands unconsciously gripped her waist, holding her against him, though he knew he should be pushing her away and helping her up off the floor.

It was positively indecent the way they were carrying on, but he loved it.

His eyes fell shut as he began to take control of the kiss back, and he swore he heard her moan in response.

It was definitely her making that sound, and not him groaning in delicious agony.

His hands drifted down slowly and he discovered just how far her dress had ridden up.

Silky smooth skin was bared to his touch, and she moaned again, rubbing against him and encouraging more exploration of her body.

He reached the hem of her dress and pulled it back up, tracing her thighs and finally touching her ass. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, down there at least.

Surely he was blushing bright red.

“Surprise…”

She mumbled slightly, clearly smiling wickedly at him.

Her hand drifted up to caress his face, and he hoped it didn’t feel warm to the touch.

“Something wrong?”

He shook his head quickly, and her expression shifted,

“Am I moving too fast?”

“Not at all, I guess I’m just really…out of practice.”

“I’ll say. If your reaction to a woman taking charge is to blush, then you’re almost a virgin…you’re not are you?”

Bruce gulped and shook his head.

“Of course not.”

Natasha looked positively sinful.

“You’re lying.”

***

The night was turning out far better than she could have ever dreamed.

Her handsome scientist was in fact a complete novice.

No wonder he’d been nervous earlier.

She ground herself against him, letting him feel how her nipples had stiffened beneath her dress and he gasped aloud as she brushed a hand against his erection over the seam of his pants.

“We should get these off…you’re far too overdressed compared to me. It’s almost unfair.”

He let out a groan, and she took it as an agreement.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, button and zipper, and she pushed down his pants, now only separated from his skin by a threadbare pair of shorts.

He twitched in response to her touch, and she smirked.

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

“That’s unlikely.”

He gasped in reply, not even trying to stop her from reaching inside his pants.

His skin was hot to the touch, and she stroked her fingers over his cock gently, so tentative as to make him groan aloud.

“Have you ever touched yourself in the shower?”

Bruce gulped,

“Of course not. I don’t have time for that in the morning.”

Natasha grinned.

“Well you should make time. It’s the best time to take care of yourself.”

She rubbed her thumb over the tip and he bucked against her hand.

“Whoa now.”

Her hand loosened and withdrew from his pants and he sighed at the loss.

“You’re a tease.”

Natasha shrugged,

“Until you get me into bed, I’m afraid that’s all I’ll be.”

Bruce blinked once, twice, before moving swiftly, pulling her up from the ground and into his arms with barely a second to breathe.

“Well!”

He walked them towards her bedroom, and deposited her onto the covers.

She bounced slightly and stared up at him with a demure smile.

She watched as he shucked off his pants and shorts, and tossed them aside, before doing the same to his jacket and shirt and tie.

She licked her lips as he advanced towards her, kicking away his shoes as he walked.

“What are you going to do to me?”

She asked with a breathy sigh, and relished the spark she saw in his eyes.

“I’m going to make you scream my name.”

Natasha raised a brow at him in surprise.

“A tall order for a virgin.”

“When a goddess is in need, I aim to please.”

She barely registered the fact he’d just called her a goddess, before he was on her, hands no longer caring about being slow or cautious, but methodically seeking out the seam of her dress, and preparing to wrench it away from her skin.

“I’ve got a dozen more just like it.” She leaned up to whisper in his ear, and she swore she saw him smirk in reply, before his rough hands tugged the silk to shreds.

She bit her lip and looked up at him as he loomed over her, before he kissed away any possible smart remark she wanted to make.

***

He’d been boasting a little bit when he’d promised to make her scream, but he wasn’t about to go back on his word.

After baring her to his gaze, he proceeded to touch and kiss every bit of her that he could, even surprising her and taking her perfectly shaped breasts into his mouth at one point, suckling and ensuring that she was marked as his where only she would see and remember.

She stole the breathe right back from him by taking his achingly hard cock into her hands and mouth and showing him something she whispered she’d learned from French acquaintances.

Two could play that game though.

Without any time to hesitate, he flipped her over onto her back, and proceeded to kiss down past her stomach, between her thighs, and finding the one spot he’d only seen in renaissance paintings of naked angels.

Then she screamed.

She swore no one had ever done that to her, but she’d wanted it and been afraid to ask it of past lovers.

He flushed with pride and she told him not to get a big head.

Whilst caressing him back to full hardness, so he couldn’t complain too much.

Then and only then did she climb atop him again.

He watched her as she moved slowly into position, and was fully prepared to beg her to do it, to let him slide home inside her, but she didn’t make him.

She looked down at him as she rode him gently, and when his hands began to bruise her hips, just at that moment did she move faster and faster, until his eyes began to close from the pleasure.

He felt the sensation building inside of him, and from the fluttering of her inner muscles around him he knew she was just as close.

His hand shifted around to stroke her center and his thumb brushed over the hard nub just below her curls.

He forced his eyes open just in time to see her own squeeze closed and her mouth gaped as she fell over the edge.

She laced her hand in his, leaning down to kiss him, and tell him it was okay to let go and he stopped holding back.

Unconsciously thrusting upwards, he chased his climax as he felt her muscles pulsing around him.

His heart rate slowed incredibly as he tried to catch his breath.

***

Natasha climbed off of him, and collapsed at his side, her hands shaking slightly as she pulled up the covers.

“I need a cigarette.”

He must have heard her mumble.

“That good huh?”

She smiled almost unconsciously.

“Professor, you have worn me out. I’d say that deserves an ‘A.’”

If she didn’t know better, she’d have said he was blushing. But the light was too dim to be sure.

“You certainly made it one for the history books.”

Natasha shrugged.

“Well what can I say, I’m a fantastic lay.”

Bruce frowned at her, and she felt a laugh tickling her throat.

“Don’t say that. You’re a lady.”

She reached out to trace a finger over his bare chest, the grey hair somewhat distracting her from the self deprecating reply she’d been planning to give.

“How old are you? You have so much grey.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“No. It looks good on you. I’m just curious how a man like you has managed to remain pure for so long.”

She smirked at him and felt less in need of a drink than in need of another round.

“Oh. Well I started seeing them in high school. So I guess it’s something genetic. I’m only twenty-seven.”

“Only? Darlin’ most men get their rocks off in their teens at college.”

Bruce sighed,

“Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I’d never…you know.”

Natasha licked her lips, and leaned up on her elbow, staring down at him until he blushed again.

“Shot off like a rocket? Greased the monkey? I’ve heard it all sorts of ways.”

“Can’t scandalize you I guess.”

“Not really.”

“I guess that’s good then.”

“Is it? You should know you look absolutely delicious like this. Just fucked.”

Bruce’s eyes widened briefly before he chuckled.

“You are something else.”

Natasha planted a kiss on his lips before retreating and rolling over to face the clock.

“You have no idea.”

She felt his hand slide over her back and down her spine, stopping just short of stroking her ass.

“Well…go on then. Don’t be a tease.”

“Would you like to…again?”

Natasha smirked and he couldn’t see it.

“Of course. Gotta make the most of one night don’t we?”

She turned back to him and fell right into his arms.

Before he kissed her, and began the process again, he frowned and asked,

“Just one night?”

“Always.”

***

Goddess or not, Natasha didn’t have room for attachments.

Bruce didn’t quite understand, or like waking up to an empty bed.

But when he returned to work the next day and went to the library to look her up, he realized why.

Several years later, when the world went mad and to war against itself, he knew Natasha wouldn’t have been content with what he would have wanted of her.

She had an empire to run, and a country to remain loyal to.

He wished he could say the same.

***

**END**

 

 

 

 


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